


For a Thousand Years

by someonesendhelp



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Holy mother almost 5k words in one chapter? Is this real life?, I apologize for the slight ooc ahhhhh, I'm not gonna make it easy for kuroro, Idk if the deaths are really graphic but i might as well tag it as such, M/M, The reincarnation/soulmate au no one asked but i still delivered, They're soulmates in a way that they have an invisible bond?, idk really, so many angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 14:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16120097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonesendhelp/pseuds/someonesendhelp
Summary: In all of the lives he had lived and remembered, there was one thing constant that Kuroro Lucifer refused to let go.





	For a Thousand Years

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh hello I'm sorry in advance for kinda shitty writing. This work is unbeta-ed because I'm impatient af and my beta reader would prolly hate me for this hahahah 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Okay lmao I just noticed (and fixed) the wonky formatting ahhhhhh I posted this using my phone and didn't know any better

In the first life they were together, he was an advisor-in-training while the other a prince.

It was, you see, a curse that fate thought funny to impose on two unassuming beings belonging in a sea of chaotic entities whose sole existence focus entirely on survival. A mere entertainment, when said beings who were meant for each other, never end up with each other unless and otherwise fate deemed it finally time to stop fucking shit up and actually let them have full reign over their lives, with it the abstract and completely fragile thing that are their memories.

He was, for whatever reason, destined to remember everything from his past lives, while the other with none, a blank slate at each and every life. With the amount of reincarnation he had gone through, one might think that he would have gone completely off his rockers and live the rest of his never ending rebirth with layers upon layers of memories that even death could not take away.

But he had grown strong, strong enough that every time he wakes up in another life, he knew what he had to do and immediately set out to find his soulmate- for the lack of better word- as soon as he is able. Because that is what they are- soulmates- and no amount of reincarnation could strip them the fragment of the other‘s soul embedded into their very own.

A fragment of soul that he had learned to love much more than his own.

And it was in their first life where he felt that, the intensity of their shared bond by which fate had cast upon them- both terrifyingly cruel and blissfully merciful.

The moment he had laid eyes on him was the moment he felt the insistent tugging of a gut feeling, indicating that the boy before him would be significant to his very existence. He has no way of knowing whatever that feeling was, for he was still a child and the other a mere infant.

But the feeling was there, and he felt at peace with it, which did not take long for him to come into a decision that he would be by this person’s side, protecting him even if it’s the last thing he would do with his life.

Kurapika was what they named him.

And he would protect and never leave Kurapika as long as he was allowed to do so.

So he watched him grow, along with his father who seemed to have an inkling of what was going through his child’s mind, as he stayed by the prince, earning his admiration and trust, a friendship which was odd in some ways and completely sensible in others. Growing so close with each other, they were inseparable, as Kurapika refused to be without him.

“Kuroro,” he would hear the blond say every time he had a question, watching up at him with big, innocent eyes he had grown so fond of. A smile would form on his lips at each and every mention of his name, at the slight tugging of his garments by small hands, and at the look of curiosity and thirst for knowledge always directed up his way. “Why do some flowers die in winter?”

And the amount of innocuous questions would pile up day by day and he would answer them with the utmost patience, never getting tired and savoring the way Kurapika’s eyes would light up at every answer, with his lips forming into a smile Kuroro engraved into both his mind and heart. He would dare say it was one of his well-kept treasures, unparalleled by beauty and beyond priceless.

There was one time, when a child’s curiosity far outweighs his rationality, Kuroro found himself completely at loss of where to find the prince. It was an important day after all, one that required the most keen preparation and attention to detail befitting of royals. Sure he had a bond much stronger towards him than anyone else surrounding the small world he ventured in, but Kurapika also had a mischievous streak that even Kuroro could not predict nor anticipate in the slightest.

So he looked for him- from the nook and cranny of the kitchen, to the vast grandeur of the ballroom, to the length of the palace’s foyer- and still could not find any traces of his whereabouts.

Until he heard a barely audible sound of distress coming from the general direction of the garden.

He followed the sound with the sole intention of locating the prince as soon as possible, hoping against hope that he was unharmed and that the only cause of his distress was nothing but a child’s problem he could easily handle. However, doubt made his chest tighten in unbridled anxiousness, making worry plant a seed of fear in his heart. Kurapika was by no means a crybaby, far from it even. He had the tendency to keep his tears to himself, being told at such young age that crying does not fit a prince like him.

Kuroro disagreed, though. He might not be fond of seeing the prince upset, but that doesn’t mean he had no right when it comes to expressing his feelings.

Still, having to hear this terrible sound of sorrow from the currently missing prince only sped up the erratic beating of his own heart.

Reaching the garden, Kuroro scanned the vicinity, eyes keen on catching the blond tuft of hair poking out under any of the neatly trimmed bushes. When he found none, he focused once more, and followed the sound that, to his horror, led to the only place he would not want the prince to be in.

The palace’s labyrinth.

Kurapika was far too young to venture through the intricate maze, the king forbidding Kurapika- alone or with anyone as per his request- to enter. Knowing Kurapika, the stubbornness he had been born with, along with his unquenchable thirst for learning, surely made him decide that knowing what’s inside the maze was something worth venturing out for.

Kuroro was also forbidden to enter the maze. He’s a teenager- fourteen and barely a full adolescent- but the elders and the council and even the king had given him the same restriction as that of the prince. He was not sure as to why, but maybe because it was to prevent Kurapika from doing something that even Kuroro could not do. Just like Kurapika, Kuroro had no idea what secrets the maze held.

Which led him to a predicament he had never wished he would face in his entire lifetime.

Should he follow the prince and ensure his immediate safety, or should he call for help and leave the prince for a few more moments than he felt comfortable?  
His rationality told him to follow the latter, but his heart felt otherwise.

A particularly loud hiss tacked the final nail to the metaphorical coffin, and Kuroro hastily dashed through the entrance and through the maze, relying on nothing but his sense of hearing alone to locate the child. He was blind, the vast unknown that was the maze leading him to a bunch of dead ends and wrong turns, making him sit on a very rocky edge of panicking.

When he was sure that he himself was lost, the corner of Kuroro’s eyes caught something bright, like the bright petals of a daffodil. He immediately ran towards him, eyes never leaving the hunched figure sobbing on the farthest corner of a dead end.

“Your Highness,” he started, earning himself a surprised jolt from the prince, who slowly and cautiously turned to him, probably thinking that he had come there to grant verdict in place of the king. His teary eyes widened in alarm, and Kuroro could see the fear in them. He raised both hands, trying to calm the panicked prince down as he slowly approached him, like a woodcutter trying to appease and help a wounded deer in the middle of the forest.

“Kuroro,” he said, voice wavering slightly. He refused to meet his eyes, teeth biting his lower lip in wary, probably thinking how he could avoid getting himself into trouble. “I just-“

“You don’t have to explain.” Kuroro knelt down to meet his face, smiling to reassure him the he won’t sell him out to the king or to anyone. Kurapika’s eyes brightened, a smile slowly tugging his lips upward, replacing the miserable look he had earlier on his pretty face.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, before hissing in pain, and no amount of derogatory words directed at his self could make Kuroro currently stop hating himself on how he had not noticed the ugly angle Kurapika’s foot had twisted.

He was injured. Kurapika was injured.

“What happened?!” Kuroro asked, worry immediately replacing his earlier calm. He knew he startled Kurapika, but he can’t mask his emotions well no matter how much he tried to.

“I-I tried to climb the hedge.” He looked up, eyes narrowing at the tall hedges that makes for the maze’s walls. Kuroro followed his line of sight, horror immediately invading his worried features. “I was afraid father might punish me if he found me here, so I tried to climb my way out.”

“He won’t punish you, you know that.”

“I didn’t want to risk it…”

It had swollen badly, and Kuroro was afraid that if he would touch it, he would cause more damage, and the last thing he wanted was for Kurapika to feel more pain than he already was feeling.

“I’m going to carry you,” he said, letting Kurapika brace himself for a sudden shift in motion.

The answer came in the form of a nod, so the older boy immediately scooped the child onto his arms, making sure that he was snug and comfortable whilst ensuring that his ankle won't be, in whatever way, damaged further.

The exit was an easy find, as Kuroro remembered certain patterns he had passed by earlier. Amazing observational skills- an ability useful to someone of his status, one that made the elders and the council consider him fit for the role he'd succeed soon.

But Kuroro couldn't care any less. All he wanted was to stay by the prince's side, never leaving no matter what happened.

As they neared the maze's exit, Kuroro noticed the anxiousness emanating from the blond, fingers subconsciously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The lip-biting was also a dead giveaway, and Kuroro worried that his lip might break under and hurt himself.

"It will be fine," he assured, earning him hopeful eyes with slight wary, but still overflowing with trust. "I know you are afraid that the king might give you a few scolding, but he's just worried about you."

"That is not helping," Kurapika said, his nervousness returning, albeit slightly toned compared to before.

A small chuckle escaped Kuroro's lips, one that was innocent and pure, untainted by the cruelty of the world and all that it brings with it. At the sound of his laughter, Kurapika's lips pulled upward, forming a smile that never failed to brighten Kuroro's mood.

"Thank you, Kuroro," he mumbled, a faint blush forming on his cheeks.

"You had already said that. No need to thank me, Your Highness."

"Well, I still want to," he heard him reply, and Kuroro couldn't be happier.

When both of them appeared before the king, they saw the relief immediately washing off the worry etched on his face, seeing his son- his preciouss, only son- alive and well. Injured, but still well. He carefully gathered Kurapika in his arms, holding him close as he muttered words of thanks and gratitude, looking at Kuroro as if he had owed him his life. Kuroro only bowed, a small smile plastered on his lips.

A few moments later, the queen came running into the room, relieved at seeing her son, kissing his forehead the moment her hands could reach him. She immediately called the royal doctors, asking them to attend to the prince and his ankle. Hearing from the king about what happened, she pulled Kuroro into a warm embrace, muttering gratitude as she did.

No reprimand had left either the king or queen’s lips, too ecstatic at finally being able to find their son. Kuroro looked out the window, realizing that they had been gone for almost an entire day. The preparations for the day’s event was all but left to abandon, the entire castle too worried for the prince’s safety to do so.

In the end, the event was postponed in order for the prince to rest and fully recover.

After that day, their bond grew stronger. To another party’s viewpoint, such act could be easily dismissed as mere obligation, an advisor simply serving the future king. But to the two of them, it was special, because it was theirs and no matter what circumstances happened in order for them to have it, it was still theirs.

And so the days passed with the both of them learning the ways of what they were going to be, the prince with books about how to run a kingdom, and Kuroro with scrolls on how to become a good advisor. Both were dedicated to their responsibilities, but it did not stop them to spend time with each other.

No matter how hectic their schedules became, no day would pass without a conversation or two fluttering between them.

And it was in those passing days that Kuroro saw the prince change bit by bit, not in the way that affected his character as him, but in a way that affected his character towards his future advisor. He was easy to embarrass, blushing at even the lightest graze of their fingers, face turning into a light shade of pink that resembled the wildflowers growing beside the road. He also seemed to enjoy stealing glances, both when they are close in proximity and afar.

One time, Kuroro caught him in the act, the blond prince studying him in a scrutiny most usually reserve for those things that keenly interests their eyes. He had asked if there was something wrong, but the prince left with no other word and did not speak to him for the rest of the day.

The stolen glances turned into lingering stares, one that still hides behind the pretense that he was not looking his way at all. It both amused and pleased Kuroro, for he had always wanted Kurapika to look at him the way he does with him- full of adoration and fondness.

Kurapika’s growing up also meant that suitors from other kingdoms came and go. Kuroro could not blame them for wanting the prince. He was a thing of beauty- a child of the moon and sun. However, it did bother him, seeing other princes and princesses take interest on what he had considered the other half of his soul only because he was beautiful, and not because they actually knew him. He knew he had no right, and it bothered him the more.

It was a side of him he wished was not there, one Kurapika knew nothing about. He tend to keep it that way as to not trouble anyone, especially the prince.

Kuroro was just thankful that Fate was merciful enough not to let his soulmate fall with someone else. Kurapika had refused to accept all the affection and riches and empty promises thrown his way by nobles, and instead of entertaining them, opted to spend time with Kuroro on either the library or garden.

When Kuroro would ask why, Kurapika’s only answer danced around, "None of them mattered to me."

And he would resume whatever he was doing, leaving the vague answer hanging in the air between them.

So to fill in the silence, he and Kurapkia would talk about what they wanted to do other than the life that was planned out for them. Although Kuroro hadn’t really thought about it too much, as all he wanted was to be wherever Kurapika was, Kurapika had expressed his desire to travel- leave the palace as if no ill consequence would befall their Kingdom once he took hold of his own freedom.

Kuroro knew Kurapika loved his people, but he also knew that his heart wanted to earn its wings and fly. Yet he was a monarch, and his place was in the palace. Both of them understood that at such a young age. Kurapika couldn’t even go to the town proper without an array of knights surrounding him. Kuroro could always feel the frustration emanating from the prince whenever his freedom was restricted.

With a heavy heart, Kuroro watched Kurapika subject himself to the role that he had been groomed into all his life.

The day came when the prince had finally come of age, a day when he will be officially declared as the King’s heir. The palace was a bustle, all the maids and servants dashing around to prepare for the big day.

Even the townspeople rejoiced, filling up every street and alley with colorful buntings, while musicians permeated the air with gleeful songs of rejoice and excitement. The women prepared their best dishes and the children plucked flowers from their gardens in order to give to the prince.

It was a joyous day for the entire kingdom.

Except for one. Or two, if one would consider Kuroro’s mixed feelings for Kurapika’s coronation. On one hand, he will see Kurapika as a King that would lead his people to prosperity. On another, Kurapika would have to swipe aside his own happiness for the sake of his kingdom.

Kuroro tied the last of the laces on the prince’s robes, securing it so that it wouldn’t untangle in the middle of the ceremony. Yes, it is a servant’s duty to attend to the prince like this, but he couldn’t help himself. He personally wanted to see to it that Kurapika is in his best for today’s occasion. That’s what he had told everyone.

He smoothed the silky fabric underneath his hands, feeling the slight tense of Kurapika’s body. His eyes scanned his face, noticing the faint blush decorating his cheeks. Kurapika looked mesmerizing in red.

“Are you unwell?” Kuroro asked, disrupting his train of thought, slightly amused at the way Kurapika reacted at the sudden question. “Should I call the doctor?”  
“There’s no need for that,” Kurapika replied, refusing to look back at him.

He moved away from Kurapika when he deemed his appearance enough, eyeing him from head to toe and nodding to himself. The prince had grown into quite a fine young man, his clothing perfectly snug against his small yet firm build. He had an air of maturity surrounding him, yet still had the child’s curiosity that he had always possessed.  
At the ripe age of 18, Kurapika had proven himself fit for the throne, and Kuroro couldn’t be prouder.

“Ready?” he asked, Kurapika flashing him a small, unsure smile, face somewhat pained and anxious and doubtful. Kuroro expected as much.

“Must I really take the throne?”

The smile on Kuroro’s face fell, replaced by a tinge of sorry and concern. Grief struck Kurapika's face, one that did not match the joyous celebration of the kingdom he will soon call his own.

"And why mustn’t you?" he asked back, only to get a small, unsure smile as an answer. He tilted his head to get a better look at him, Kurapika immediately looking away and not meeting his gaze. "Isn't this what you wanted?" No, Kuroro knew this isn’t what he wanted. He was the only one who knew what Kurapika wanted the most.

"No-" he caught himself, eyes widening in mortification- "I meant, yes, I've always wanted this. All my life, I have always prepared myself to take the throne. But.." He looked towards the window, eyes glinting as it followed a bluebird in its course of flight. "Is this all there is to it? Am I going to live the rest of my life in this castle? Will I be able to see the hidden wonders of this world?"

Kuroro followed his line of vision with a small smile of his own. "You greatly underestimate a king's capabilities to travel."

"Travel, yes. Freedom?" He shook his head, returning his attention back to Kuroro's face. Another wave of splotchy red assaulted his cheeks, eyes trying to convey something he can’t quite put his finger on. Kuroro wanted to assume what it was, but to assume was dangerous. It was what lead most men in grief. "I want to be absolutely free. See the world. Make decisions of my own. Be _free_."

And he looked away once more, heaving a sigh that was too heavy to the ears.

"They say I am fortunate to be heir. I do not think so..."

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Kuroro decided to break it once more.

"If only I could, I would grant your wish." He took both the prince's hands, holding it tight enough as not to hurt. "Give you a hundred lives to live the way you wanted to."  
Kurapika chuckled, the sound coming out of his mouth a melody to Kuroro's ears. "Would you be in it?"

"Of course. I would never leave your side."

"But what if I forget? At each life I would not recognize you?"

"Then I promise not to forget. To find you and make you remember."

"Promises are dangerous things," Kurapika said, smile teasing and face incredulous. He shook his head once more, squeezing Kuroro's hand, silently telling him that he appreciated the sentiment. “There’s something I need to tell y-”

A knock on the door indicated that their time was up, that their little moment had to end. With a face that rivaled a rose’s petals, Kurapika patted Kuroro’s hands, silently telling him to just forget about it. Although curiosity was gnawing at him, Kuroro nodded in understanding.

The prince was right, though. Promises were dangerous things. It is what the Fates love to twist and manipulate, their form of entertainment for the sake of not getting bored in all their eternal misery. To hear a promise is to find amusement, and to find amusement is to relieve boredom.

And to relieve boredom was to signify someone's demise.

The ceremony began with the prince walking down the aisle, his head crowned with a band of flowers- flowers that signify his coming-of-age, his position, and the role he is about to take. On the altar, an elderly woman waited, cupping a ceramic bowl of ceremonial mud in her wrinkled hands. As Kurapika’s future advisor, Kuroro stood beside her. He watched Kurapika walk with conviction, but his eyes told how conflicted he was inside.

“Hmph,” someone behind him scoffed, making Kuroro turn his head in slight surprise. One of the counselors eyed the prince in disdain that left a sour taste in Kuroro’s mouth. Something inside his chest stirred in trepidation, fear immediately taking over the earlier calm of his heart. “Look at him. He’s not fit for running a kingdom.” Another counselor side-eyed him, scooting farther away and putting a good distance between the two of them.

Too busy keeping his attention on the counselor, Kuroro failed to notice Kurapika reaching the altar until the old woman spoke, her voice echoing throughout the dome. He turned back to the prince, only to meet his curious and questioning gaze. He gave him a reassuring smile, and although Kurapika didn’t seem convinced, he nodded and directed his attention back to the elder.

“Your Highness,” she spoke, giving Kurapika a comforting and kind smile, “time to officially become heir. How does that feel for you?”

“Quite nervous,” was Kurapika’s immediate reply. The elder chuckled, reaching out and patting Kurapika’s right cheek in fond affection. Kurapika leaned onto the touch, a smile finally etching itself on his face. Kuroro can’t help but feel warm at the scene before him, though the earlier feeling of dread was still there.

“Ah, yes,” she said, retracting her hand and dipping a thumb into the mixture inside the ceramic bowl, “a natural reaction. I can guarantee that your father was a lot worse during his.” She gestured for Kurapika to kneel on the first step of the carpeted altar. When he was settled, the elder smeared the clay on his forehead, creating the start of what will be an intricate imagery, symbolizing Kurapika’s role to the kingdom as future king. However, the small twitch of the blond’s mouth did not go unnoticed by Kuroro.

“This mud- dug from the soil where the sacred Red Tree stood- shall represent the many things for his Highness.” The elder added a swirl by Kurapika’s temple, the design stopping just right above the end of one of his eyebrow. “This mud shall represent the roots, binding his Highness to humility.” Another swirl, a different one this time, drawled on the opposing side. “This mud shall represent the trunk, the strength of which a King shall need to help his people.” Another swirl, curling just above his cheek. “This mud shall represent the branches, the generosity of which a king must shower his kingdom.” Then another. “And finally, this mud shall represent the leaves, as the king must become the hope of his people.”

The elder stepped back, and Kurapika rose from where he knelt. He opened his eyes, a renewed determination in them. His face was solemn, and with two crowns adorning his head, he looked liked the king he will soon be.

“The gods have blessed you with the power of the Red Tree. Accept this blessing and drink the Nectar giveth by the gods.”

The trepidation was immediately back in his chest, almost numbing Kuroro on where he stood. With well conceived trembling hands, Kuroro turned and fetched the golden pitcher on the oaken table situated in the center of the altar, pouring a generous amount of ceremonial honey mead into the chalice. He handed the filled cup to the elder, eyes full of inexplicable fear meeting Kurapika’s own.

Something bad was going to happen. He can’t exactly point out what it was, but everything felt wrong. He wanted to warn Kurapika, yet he was afraid interrupting the ceremony can earn their land the gods’ wrath.

The elder raised the ornate cup, muttering a a hymn of gratitude to the gods above them, before handing it to Kurapika. As per tradition, he turned around, facing the crowd as he drank the contents of the chalice. A chorus of applause echoed throughout the dome, filling every niche of the establishment, signaling the ritual complete, officially crowning Kurapika heir to the throne.

However, the celebration abruptly stopped when blood trickled down Kurapika’s nose, freezing the entire audience on their seats. Gingerly touching the warm liquid with shaking fingers, Kurapika turned to Kuroro, eyes wide with fear and realization.

The prince collapsed.

The entire hall erupted into chaos, but Kuroro was immediately by Kurapika’s side, holding him as he desperately gasped for breath. Droplets of blood drenched his ceremonial clothes as more dribbled from his mouth and eyes. The queen frantically screamed for the palace’s doctor, while the king ordered his men with a thunderous roar to apprehend anyone possible of the crime.

This was it. This was what the strange feeling was about. An omen. A horrifying omen.

Kurapika was dying.

In his arms.

His teary eyes landed on the toppled chalice laying by the prince’s feet, unadulterated anger immediately replacing fear. Someone poisoned his soulmate. Someone dared to harm him. The image of the scoffing counselor immediately resurfaced on the forefront of Kuroro’s mind, but before he can locate him, a man heavily clad in armor stormed inside the dome from the giant double doors, a large, silver broadsword adorning his right hand. Behind him, an army stood ready for battle- no, murder- waiting for any orders from their commander. The man turned to one of his banner men, and with that, the army began their massacre of the innocent.

The chaos inside the dome continuously increased in octave at every minute that ticked by, agonizing fear and inexplicable horror devouring what was supposed to be a joyous day in their kingdom.

Kuroro’s attention was diverted back to the dying prince who was still desperately fighting for his life. A single tear streaked down Kuroro’s cheek. He promised to protect Kurapika, protect him with his life, yet he failed miserably. He gathered the weak prince in his arms, angry that the doctors failed to come to their aide. However, a sharp tip of a sword’s blade abruptly stopped him.

“Not a chance,” the man sneered, and before Kuroro could conjure an escape plan, a sharp, agonizing pain bloomed on his back, his blood coating the blade of the weapon. Despite this, he held onto Kurapika even more, refusing to let go of him. He turned to see who his assailant was, but a firm hand held him in place. The weapon- a dagger- that was once plunged deep in his back, hovered by his throat, and before Kuroro knew it, he was choking on his own blood, collapsing to the floor with the slowly dying prince.  
The man cackled in frenzied amusement, walking away from them with a lilt on his step, probably planning to end the king and queen by himself. Kuroro used the chance to try and reach Kurapika despite his own mortal wound, but by the time their eyes met, Kurapika took his final breath.

Grief consumed Kuroro, his tears that was full of sadness and anger and misery were mixing with his blood. As he neared his own death, the last thing he saw was the beautiful yet lifeless face of his soulmate.

Then, darkness.

* * *

In the second life they were together, they both served the Great War on opposing sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it makes sense that Kuroro has a sorta different personality? I want to build his character up until we reach canon timeline.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, btw （●´∀｀）ノ♡


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